


Sweater Weather

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Cold Weather, F/M, everybody just wants to go to bed, jacket charity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 17:31:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2741030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: The fire alarm is pulled and wowee it is cold, here take my jacket.</p><p>When someone pulls the fire alarm in their dorm, Brienne is forced outside into the frigid weather without a jacket. Jaime is happy to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweater Weather

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!

 

Brienne was jolted awake by a shrill shriek that filled her dorm and crushed her eardrums with one precise ring. A few seconds later the next ring came, and then the next, and then the next. Brienne rolled onto her stomach and buried her head underneath her pillow, but not before letting out pitiful groan. She heard an answering groan from the bunk bed in the corner of the room.

“By the Gods, what is _that?"_  Margaery whimpered. Brienne could only grunt pathetically in response.

“You guys, I think it’s the fire alarm!” Sansa whispered. She was still groggy with sleep, but Brienne could detect a note of panic in her voice that made her uncover her head and lean across the bed, grasping for her phone. She got it and shined the light toward the red headed teenager.

Sansa was the only of the three sitting up, wisps of burgundy shaded hair escaping her thick fishtail braid and framing the thin, pale oval of her face. She squinted her eyes against the harsh light and Margaery, on the bunk above her, let out a quiet curse and rolled over aggressively.

“Brienne, put that thing away before I hop off this bed and--” Margaery started, her words muffled by piles of blankets and pillows.

“I really think that’s the fire alarm.” Brienne interrupted. Her throat ached a bit and she could feel the beginning of a huge headache starting at the base of her skull. The alarm continued to screech relentlessly.

Just then, their door was almost shook off it's hinges when somebody pounded on it from the hallway. Sansa and Margaery screamed while Brienne let out a boyish yelp.

“Campus police! This is campus police! The fire alarm has been pulled, I need all residents of the building to please head towards the nearest exit calmly and in an orderly fashion.“

They could hear the sounds of other policemen pounding on neighboring doors, locks clicking and footsteps jogging down the hall, past their room, and down the staircase. It was all the incentive Brienne needed to throw her blankets off the bed and sit up. She heard Sansa do the same, but Margaery let out another pained groan. Brienne flashed the light of her phone towards her again. The clock read 1:38 in the morning.

“Marg, this is serious!” she hissed, struggling with putting on her combat boots while continuing to blast Margaery with the light. She was about to turn her flashlight app on when there was a timid knock at the door.

“Brie, Sansa, Marg?” A little voice asked. It was Gilly, their next door neighbor. The door handle shook roughly as someone else knocked on their door, less timidly.

“Are you guys still in there?” Ygritte shouted, much to Margaery’s annoyance. Sansa, who had been by the door putting on her delicate flats, opened it up before covering her eyes from the harsh light of the hallway.

Ygritte stood outside with her roommate Gilly, her clothes rumpled, her make-up smeared, and her eyes as bright as her flame red hair. Gilly stood next to her, brown haired and petite, with her fingers plugged into her ears.

“Can you believe this bullshit?” Ygritte hissed. Brienne could see a few girls trot behind them as they made their way outside. “I have one of the most important tests of my freshman career tomorrow in Phycology. How do they expect me to pass while dealing with this absolute, utter--”

“--bullshit.” She and Brienne finished in harmony. She shot Brienne a sour look.

“Excuse me, ladies.” An officer said, approaching Gilly from behind. “I’m going to need the four of you to evacuate immediately, please.”

“ _Five_ of us!” Margaery groaned, crawling down off the top bunk and shuffling over to Brienne, leaning a bit on her for support. After knowing the Tyrell’s personally for over a decade, Brienne knew that not a single one of them was a morning person. Thank the Seven Loras lived in a junior dorm across campus.

The officer left to make sure the other dorms were clear as the five of them walked down the hall and down the stairs, running into only minimum traffic. They lived on the fourth floor of their co-ed dorm, and practically every one on their floor had already made their way outside to where the authorities herded all of the students. When they shuffled out of the stairwell and into the lobby, Brienne could see the group of students, both boys and girls alike, huddled together while police officers and supervisors circled around them and the building helplessly.

They took one step outside before Ygritte cursed.

“By the Seven!” she hissed.

“I hope the dorm is actually on fire. Maybe then we can gather around it and heat the hell up.” muttered Brienne, painfully aware of her lack of jacket. It was only the beginning of October, it should not be this cold.

“Yeah.” Margaery replied. “And then we can all hold hands and sing campfire songs.”

“Go to hell.” Brienne snapped crossly. She rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms, which quickly became dotted with goosebumps.

“I’m going to go look for Sam.” Gilly fretted. Her boyfriend, Sam, and Sansa’s half-brother, Jon, were roommates on the third floor on the boys section of the dorm. Ygritte nodded her head.

“I’ll come, too.”

“That’s just because you want to see Jon.” Gilly giggled as they made their way toward the writhing mass of freezing and irritable students.

“ _I do not_.” She barked.

Sansa leaned toward Brienne and Margaery when the other two girls got out of earshot. “She so does.”

“Obviously.” Margaery retorted. She craned her head and eyed the crowd furtively before lifting her lip in disgust. “I think I see Joffrey over there.”

“Gross.” Brienne muttered.

“Is he with Sandor?” Sansa asked nervously.

Marg smirked. “No. The master without his hound at last.”

“Oh, stop it. Are you sure?”

“Sansa, he’s like seven feet tall. It’s safe to say I’m pretty sure.”

“I see Robb and Jeyne.” Brienne said, pointing toward the far left section of the group. Sure enough, Jeyne and Robb stood near the front, huddled together desperately for warmth.

“Hmm, where’s tweedledum?” Margaery asked.

“ _Theon_ was staying with some guy in his math class, so they could study or something.” Sansa answered. “Come on. Robb sees us.”

It was true. Robb gestured toward them frantically while whispering in Jeyne’s ear. They half walked, half stumbled over to him on numb legs.

“They’re saying someone pulled it as a prank.” Robb said when they finally reached him.

“Whose idea of funny is this?” Sansa snorted.

“Not mine.” Margaery muttered. “I’m freezing my ass off.”

“Oh, here.” Robb shrugged off his jacket and gave it to her, and she thanked him greatly. Sansa hurried over to her and squeezed underneath it as well, trying in vain to zip it up. “Brienne, do you want my sweatshirt?”

“Oh, no. Thank you, Robb.” Brienne replied. In actuality she was beginning to lose feeling in her fingers, but she would much rather deal with that than go through the embarrassment of wearing Robb Stark’s sweatshirt. She knew just looking at it that it would be too small, and she blanched at the idea of trying to wiggle it over her broad shoulders. This had less to do with Robb Stark being a small man and more to do with Brienne being a muscled woman.

Brienne was, as known by everyone who saw her, huge. She was broad shouldered, wide chested, and topped the charts at 6’3. She’d accepted long ago that she was not delicate enough to try to fit into a smaller boy’s sweatshirt, and now she didn’t want to dwell on the prospect of it.

“Brienne,” someone shouted behind her. She turned and saw Ellaria Sand walking toward her, another one of her longtime friends.

“Ellaria, hey!” Brienne said, giving her a hug.

“Isn’t this awful.” Ellaria said. “I haven’t felt discomfort like this since I let Oberyn--”

“Yes, it is awfully cold, isn’t it?” Brienne said quickly. She could already feel a blush spreading to her cheeks.

She and Ellaria talked for a few more minutes, exchanging the pleasantries only an absence of time required. Finally, Ellaria patted her shoulder gently.

“It was so great seeing you, Brienne. Could we meet for lunch this Saturday?” Ellaria asked.

“Yes, or course. The Dragon, at noon?”

“Lovely, my dear. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must find Oberyn again. When the fire alarm went off, he had me bent over the—“

“It was so great seeing you, Ellaria!” Brienne interrupted loudly. “I’ll see you Saturday!”

“Yes, Saturday it is, darling.”

Brienne watched Ellaria weave back through the crowd with a smile, but she frowned when she turned back to Robb and Margaery.

They were all gone. Migrated somewhere else, and Brienne hadn’t seen where they went. She panicked for a second before pulling out her phone and texting Sansa. Her fingers where so numb she could barely press the buttons, let alone spell words correctly. She would have called, but her phone was broken for the time being and could only send and receive texts. She breathed warm air on her hands.

“You look like you’re having trouble.” Someone said behind her. Brienne whirled around with a gasp and came face to face with a young man. Golden blond hair and full lips, twisted into a teasing smirk, paired with near luminescent green eyes and perfectly sculpted facial features.

Jaime Lannister, Joffrey’s older cousin, captain of the varsity Hockey team. Son a Tywin Lannister, the owner of the most predominant legal corporation in all of King’s Landing. Brother of Tyrion Lannister, top of all of his classes, and cousin of Cersei Lannister, the youngest woman ever to sign with Honeygland Professional Modeling Agency. Brienne could write out an entire page of lists. He was practically royalty.

_He isn’t as handsome as people describe_ , she thought. She knew it was a bit of a lie.

“I’m doing just fine, thank you.” She snapped, a bit harsher than she intended to. His obvious and borderline narcissistic confidence made her jumpy, for someone who had spent her entire life dealing with the repercussions of pure and unalterable ugliness. Whatever confidence she was supposed to have she tried very hard to pour into Sansa, who seemed to believe that her innocent nature repelled her current crush, Sandor Clegane. Brienne was certain it was part of the attraction.

“Really? Are you sure?” Jaime asked. He seemed amused, which made her nervous. This wouldn’t be the first time a cute guy had talked to her just for the fun of it, or Gods forbid, on a dare. She looked around to see if she could see any pig headed jocks laughing at her from behind their hands.

“Quite.” She tried her best to sound very, very irritated. She didn’t want to explicitly tell him to fuck off, but she would it she had to. Jaime actually let out a loud laugh.

“Give me your phone.” He demanded, holding out his hand as if he expected her to just plop it right into his palm without question. She stared down at him for a brief moment.

“No.” she said incredulously. He quirked a golden arched eyebrow at her.

“No?” he repeated.

“Well, you’re not deaf.” Brienne reported tersely. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it quickly. He gestured to her phone.

“I’ll type for you.” He said. Brienne just continued to stare at him.

“You’ll _type_ for me?”

Well,” he smirked. “You’re not deaf.”

Brienne’s cheeks heated slightly and she pressed her lips firmly together. “No, you don’t need to type for me.”

“You sure, wench? Because it looks like you’re about to lose a finger.”            

“For the last time, yes I’m--” she broke off mid-sentence. “ _What_ did you just call me?”

Jaime smirked again and dragged his teeth over his bottom lip. Brienne’s face, already flushed with indignation, got even hotter. “Maybe you are deaf, _wench.”_

“You can’t call me that!”

“Do you not like it?”

“I _hate_ it.”

He smirked once again, and Brienne thought she was going to hit him. “It stays, wench.”

“That is not my name!”

“Then what is?”

“It’s Brienne!”

His eyes widened a fraction. “Tarth?”

Brienne didn’t know what made her more nervous, the fact that she actually told him her name, or the fact that he already knew it. “How’d you know?”

“You’re Olenna’s prodigy.” He said, making Brienne stiffen. It was true; Olenna was her long time mentor and maternal figure, but she would in no way call herself a prodigy.

“Prodigy? At best, I’d call myself a candy striper.” Olenna was one of the world’s best neurosurgeons seen since the founding Targaryen’s. Brienne couldn’t be in any way, shape, or form her prodigy. She just liked medicine.

“Oh, no.” Jaime grinned. “The way she talks about you. You’re definitely some type of medical virtuoso.”

“I’m _not_.” She insisted. It made her extremely anxious to know that not only had Olenna been discussing her to strangers, but apparently discussing her to people like Jaime Lannister. She felt at an extreme disadvantage; he knew about her. What did he know? Her personal life, her background? She felt guilty for feeling at a disadvantage. She’d come into this discussion knowing just as much, if not more, about Jaime.

“Don’t deny it, wench. Olenna isn’t one to throw around empty compliments.” He got very serious all of a sudden, his green eyes staring very deeply into hers. She looked away quickly. “If she says she thinks you’re going to rule the neurology field one day, she means it.”

“.. Thank you.” She paused once more. “ _Don’t_ call me wench!”

His smirk was back full forced, and it never occurred to Brienne that it hadn’t been there in the first place. It made her want to pay attention more.

She shivered full bodied, too violently to be ignored. Jaime began to unzip his jacket.

“Here.” He said, shimmying out of the sleeves. She shook her head.

“I-I’m fine.” She said. He snorted so loud she was surprised it didn’t hurt his throat.

“You’re turning into a giant, blonde popsicle. Take the jacket. We’re the same size, wench.”

She didn’t respond to him because she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of her acknowledging his new pet name, but she did assess him a bit. He was shorter than her by about one inch (two in her combat boots), but his shoulders were just a broad, if not the tiniest big broader than hers. His jacket was made of soft fleece and had the university hockey logo on the back, so she knew it was made to survive the cold of the ice. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“If this is some type of battle of wills,” he said smoothly. “You’re the one who is going to freeze to death first.”

She thought for one moment more before letting out a breath, holding out her hand to reach for the jacket. He pulled it back at the last second.

“Say please?”

“Go to hell.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “It’ll have to do for now.”

She yanked the jacket out of his hand and gruffly put it on, ignoring his triumphant gaze. She was surprised to find him a bit broader than she has originally assumed, and the jacket hung comfortably and even a bit loosely on her muscled frame. She zipped it up all the way and shoved her hands deep into the pockets, feeling a little loose change and what felt like a paper clip. He gave a one syllable laugh.

“You see, wench? That wasn’t so hard.”

“Go to hell.”

“You need a new line. You’re beginning to sound like a broken record.”

“ _You_ need to call me by my name.”

“If I went by the name on the back of the jacket, I’d be calling you Lannister.” He grinned.

Brienne didn’t reply for a second or two. “Thank you, you know. For the jacket.”

He shrugged dismissively, not seeming a bit cold in his short sleeve t-shirt.

Brienne discreetly turned her head into her shoulder and smelt the jacket, which smelt fresh and clean and _male_ in a way that Brienne hadn’t really experienced before.

“You know,” Jaime said pleasantly. “They’re saying that someone pulled it as a prank.”

“Was it you?” she snorted, only half serious.

“You think I want to be out here, wench? I have morning practice in less than four hours.” He responded.

“Stop calling me that!”

“What if I let you call me something? Like, Adonis, or--”

“Asshole?” she muttered under her breath.

“I heard that!”

Brienne continued to shift from foot to foot, letting her breath huff past her lips and cloud in front of her face. She could feel him looking at her.

“Stop staring, it makes me nervous.” She said tersely.

“I’m not staring, wench.” He smirked.

“Yes, you are.”

“Prove it.”

“You’re looking at me _right now_.”

“That doesn’t prove anything.”

“It proves _everything!_ ”

She looked at him incredulously, and when she met his gaze, his smirk widened. “I like it when you look me in the eye. You have beautiful eyes, wench.”

She stared at him a little more, and he looked so _honest._ So honest, and so unaware that that was the first time any boy had called anything about her beautiful.

“Listen,” she started. “I don’t know exactly what you’re doing, and I appreciate your jacket, I really do, but I’m going to have to ask you to stop.”

He arched his eyebrow. “Stop what?”

She wasn’t exactly sure herself, so she just gestured to him as a whole and hope he got the message.

Suddenly, he reached for her hand and she jerked back too late. She felt his fingers brush the inside of her wrist, down her palm, and snatch her phone right from her hand. To her horror, he answered it. She hadn't even know it'd been ringing.

“Hello?” he asked, grinning like the Cheshire cat. Brienne gapped at him.

“ _Give that back!”_

“Oh, who is this? Margry? Margaery? Gods, that's a mouthful.”

“Jaime, what the _hell_ do you think you’re doing!”

Brienne lunged for him, and he twirled gracefully to the side, avoiding her completely.

“Brienne is a little busy at the moment, can I take a message?”

“Jaime Lannister!”

She snatched her phone away and fumbled with it for a bit in her passion. Jaime laughed at her mused hair and flushed face.

“I like it when you scream my name, wench.”

Brienne was certain she turned the color of a ripe tomato, so she flipped him off and turned her back to him.

“Margaery?” she asked.

“Brienne! Where are you? Are you okay? Who was _that_? We’ve been looking for you for 20 minutes!” Margaery said shrilly. She heard Sansa mutter in the background.

“Hey, hey, I’m fine. I just lost track of time talking to Ellaria.” She pointedly ignored Jaime whistling, of all things, behind her.

“Who was that who answered?” She asked, ever persistent.

“I’ll tell you later. Listen, where are you guys?” she asked. Now she heard Robb in the background.

“We’re by the benches at the end of the building. We thought you were right behind us. Where are you?”

“I’m on my way.” She said before ending the call. She turned to find Jaime still standing behind her.

“That was very rude, wench, answering the phone while with company.” He said.

“I’ve got to go. Thank you for the jacket, really, and I would say it’s been a pleasure, but it hasn’t” she shimmied out of the jacket and he frowned.

“No, keep it.” He said. Brienne stared at him.

“No, no, it’s fine, really.” She said, attempting to give the jacket to him. Her skin was already goosebumped, and he wouldn’t take the jacket.

“Keep it, wench. I’ll ask a friend to get it later.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Who?”

“Gods, wench, do you ever accept anything? Take the jacket!”

“Fine.” She muttered, slipping the jacket on. He watched her, as if he thought she would throw it on the ground or something.

She didn't know if she liked him looking at her or not. It made her feel nervous, jumpy. His eyes were emerald green when he looked at her, and when he did she felt like he was looking  _through_ her. Her cheeks reddened.

She meet his gaze one more time, nodding her head. “I’ll see you around.”

He smirked at her. “See you around, wench.”

She was about to leave before she whipped around and glared at him. “ _Stop it.”_

He laughed as he turned and left, and Brienne watched him for a second before turning around and walking to the benches at the end of the building. There she saw her friends with the addition of Sam and Jon, all huddled around each other and shivering. Sansa took her hand when she reached them.

“It is freezing! I just want to go inside!” she whined.

“Me, too.” Brienne replied. When she opened her mouth, she was peppered with questions.

“Where were you?”

“We tried to find you, I promise.”

“Is that a hockey jacket?”

“Did you get lost?”

“Since when were you friends with _Ellaria Sand?”_

“Brienne,” Robb said sharply and suddenly. “Why does the back of your jacket say _Lannister?”_

Brienne pressed her lips firmly together. Jaime’s jacket still smelled fresh, and it was still skin warmed and cozy. She shrugged a bit.

She’d tell them in the morning.

 

 

 

 


End file.
